Bound By Contract: The Superstar's Secret Wife

lmost cracked under the p

hs. Her eyes were locked on the Twitter trending page. Joanne Whitney's name sat at the n

upposed to be hers. She had auditioned four times, only for Joanne

lesh inside her cheek. The metal

the keyboard, typing out the words she couldn't say in public: Some people f

hit

ions exploded. Hundreds of replies

o a megastar, y

usi

Hollywood

snatched the pho

r, the screen light reflecting in her furious eyes. "Do not c

ing," Allyson mutt

llyson jerked forward. A sickeni

cheap fabric had given way at the seam, exposing an inch of her waist. She

. "If Joanne hadn't stolen your role, you wouldn't be we

e tinted window, staring at her own reflection. She forced the c

of Fame. The red carpet stretched out like a river of blood

of the crowd hit Allyson like a physical blow. But they

kles white, and stepped out. The cold night ai

ahead, Joanne stood in a custom haute couture

nto Allyson. A slow, mocking smirk curled

rippled through the press pit. Photographers literally lowe

of the carpet erupted into a

tepped out of

ged his broad shoulders perfectly. His expression was cold, his jawline sharp

ing her body toward Byron's path, desperate t

g toward the edge of the carpet to get away f

to heel caught hard in the over

alance vanished. A spike of blinding agony shot up from her ankle, instantly stealing

The paparazzi instantly raised their cameras, hun

shut, throwing her hands o

act nev

lding wall of muscle. The crisp, clean s

ng her mid-fall. The grip was iron-clad, lifting her

hitched. She snap

ctly into Byron's da

silent. For one agonizing seco

bulbs erupted simultaneo

hattered, her eyes wid

rt slammed against her ribs so har

xploded into a blur of rage, accusing Allyson of

ped a hand over her mouth, lookin

greement flashed in her mind. She pushed her hands

Instead, Byron's fingers flexed, pulling her ha